


Finding Home Again

by Robot_Qwerty



Category: Gundam Wing, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robot_Qwerty/pseuds/Robot_Qwerty
Summary: Morgan lost any family he had left during the horrors of the Canadian Civil War, he lived on his own and carved out his own existence at eighteen years old. Adventure and magic only existed in fairy tales and daydreams, survival is all he knows anymore. The Civil War ends a little before the Eve Wars. So when the new laws after the Eve Wars come into place, his world was turned upside down and Canada's new government left little choice to the die-hard patriots. Finally escaping to the Sanq Kingdom wasn't the sanctuary he had hoped it would be. Add the former Gundam Pilots to the mix and he might just find his escape, or will he never find the freedom he craves?





	1. Just Another Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> My first work, don't judge too hard. Although I did include the Harry Potter series, it is more the universe I'm borrowing. There may be a few characters brought in later, but I'm not sure yet where the story is headed.

The digits behind the cracked face of the thrown-away watch informed me that I had slept far later than was normal. The sickly blue glow assaulted my retinas as I glared at the blinking numbers. A groan from the pit of my stomach vibrated out of my throat as I rolled over to the left of my cot, propping myself up on my elbows so I could sit. A hiss slithered out of my mouth as bare feet hit the chilly cement floor of the basement. I looked around the pitch darkness of the room and leaned over to flick on the barely functioning lamp on the cinderblocks that served as a bedside table. The opposite corner of my 'room' held a hose and drain that served as my washing station, for everything else I had to use the separate bathroom for the staff upstairs. My little area was behind the basement stairs, so none of the guests would see the less civilised part of the layout: furnace, water heater, etc. which was sectioned off by drywall, hence no source of light.

The main part of the basement was a wine cellar and vault, as well as a general storage which was all nice and finished with bricks and tiles.

A huff of breath escaped my chest as I straightened up slowly in order to avoid aggravating the bruises on my shoulder and back. The beating I had received was given before my adoptive parents and son left yesterday was echoing dully through my body. I was getting a vacation just like they were, taking my own sweet time to do the multitude of chores I was responsible for.

Shuffling over to the hose and drain, I washed myself as thoroughly as the bone-chilling water would allow. You would think that given the fact that there was no one in the house but me would afford the opportunity to use the facilities the rest of my 'family' enjoyed. You would be wrong, so very wrong. Not only was I not allowed to use them without express permission while the family was there, but they locked everything tighter than a snare drum when they left me alone. Only the areas I needed to clean and utilize for day to day necessities were at my disposal. 

Gritting my teeth at the aches moving brought on, I quickly dressed in my "going-out" clothing, so that I could use the money I had slowly collected to get some food. The pantry was one of the areas that was thoroughly shut to me, although, they usually put out a certain allotment of food for me every week. Since they had been in somewhat of a rush that day, they had conveniently forgotten to give me any food, hence the breaking of my carefully horded stash. I was used to constant hunger after the two years I had been forced to live with my generous benefactors. One of many laws that had been passed suddenly made me a minor, which grated on every nerve I possessed. I was twenty when the world had decided that adulthood was defined as the age of twenty-five. You would think supporting myself for two years would be enough for the 'social-worker' assigned to my case to give me a break. She could have signed off on the emancipation required to allow my continued freedom, since most of my generation had already earned such privileges. Nope. I was not included, and that was when I found myself put in the care of the perfect Nuclear Family: Mr. Evan Thorkul, whose up-and-coming career as a lawyer made him one hell of a desirable target, his lovely wife, Anya, whose sparkling manners and elegant baring made her the envy of the social circuit, and their heir extraordinaire, Andrew, whose arrogant and cruel personality was only matched by his atrocious attitude towards anyone lower in the social hierarchy.

Opening the door into the main area, I slowly made my way up the stairs, feeling just as cautious as usual even though there was no one to avoid upstairs. Also, the strain on my already overtaxed muscles and energy was making my legs and back burn. I was used to labour, but the beating was making it difficult to function like I normally would have. The walk to the convenience store was longer by far than I would have preferred, but I didn't have much of a choice considering the neighbourhood my dwelling was situated in was considered high-end. Meaning a cup of coffee costing seven dollars was considered a discount. The upside of my walk was getting some fresh air and clearing the cobwebs from my sleep-addled brain, the downside was that the amount of energy it cost was making me dizzy. The extra weight from cheap food wasn't helping.

I was about ready to collapse by the time I reached the familiar brick wall surrounding the Thorkul's property, thinking longingly of the food in my pack.

What greeted me when I reached the Eastern side of the property, however, had me freezing in place. I was quietly walking through the trees that bordered the perimeter wall when I was met with the odd sight. There was a black SUV, with two men standing next to the vehicle having a discussion.

Given the no parking sign not ten feet away, it was indeed strange, but the men themselves gave me pause. One was tanned, with amethyst eyes and luscious brown hair tied back in what appeared to be a three-foot braid. The other looked like he might be Japanese, and had messy brown hair coupled with piercing crystalline blue eyes. What surprised me the most was their clothing, paired with how they held themselves. Both of them seemed very different given their actions, but they held themselves in a position that suggested constant readiness. I recognized the pose, given that I emulated it on a regular basis. Their outfits matched each other, and looked like uniforms, a mix of muted green and brown articles with brass button's that screamed 'military'.

My previous position of transition when I moved to the Sanq Kingdom made me more vulnerable to the large changes in law and government, I was one of those people who got the raw end of the deal and no new information to accompany it. I had no idea what branch of the military, if it even was the military, that these people belonged to. The heat crawling up my cheeks gave physicality to the shame I felt, I hated feeling ignorant.

Huffing at myself, I made a decision on the fly and decided that I wouldn't try to avoid whoever these people were. Sense warring with curiosity, I continued along my path, wondering whether they would ignore me or simply let me go by.


	2. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet two of our hero's and Morgan gets spooked.

Heero Yuy felt like growling in frustration. When Lady Une had warned them not to force their way inside the Thorkul Estate by using their positions as Preventers, she hadn't been joking. No, Lady Une didn't joke when it came to their work, and Heero didn't concede unless he had no other option. Hence his current predicament. When Heero and his partner Duo (partner in more than one way) had pulled up to the front of the gate of the prestigious family estate, they had promptly been informed that the family was not home and gotten the vague impression that they wouldn't be back anytime soon. Despite this, he and his partner had presented their identification and demanded to speak to someone in charge of security and get some concrete answers. That had lead to a never-ending loop of bureaucracy and gas lighting. He had come to the conclusion that the security for the place had been given training on avoidance and pressure tactics.

 

So here they were, parked on the perimeter of the target area, unable to infiltrate without causing a huge headache, and trying to come up with a Plan B.

 

"Une-baby did warn us that the badges wouldn't work," Duo cheerfully pointed out the obvious from where he was leaning against a nearby decorative tree.

 

Heero just stared at him for a moment, choosing to ignore the nickname he had given their superior, Lady Une, before saying, "I suppose we could take a leaf out of your book and just nag them until they give in."

 

Duo just grinned and snickered at that, with a spark in his eyes that told Heero he was listening.

 

Taking a moment, he continued, "We gave ourselves away when we presented ourselves as Agents, but on the other hand, we could provoke the targets just enough to squeeze in."

 

Duo's countenance took on a speculative edge as he put his hands in his pants pockets, tilting his head in consideration. The grin came back as more of a smirk and his purple eyes gleamed slightly, "A couple of Preventers keep showing up at the gate and the neighbours start speculating. Make 'em sweat."

 

"Hn," was the only reply.

 

Duo frowned then, "Buuuuuuuuut," he drew out the word, "if we get complaints, then Une would get on our case about the whole "under the radar" thing."

 

Heero was about to respond when both men heard a pair of shoes thudding towards them in the delicate grass. Looking up, they saw an unlikely young man walking towards them, weaving through the trees. He wasn't the type of person you would normally expect to see wandering around a neighbourhood which catered to the upper echelons of society. He was dressed in a faded, ratty blue t-shirt, somewhat ill-fitting jeans topped with a bleach-splotched black denim jacket, and it was obvious none of the rips or spots were meant to be there.  Given how skinny the boy was, Heero was wondering how he could remain standing with what appeared to be a rather full, worn, backpack. The boy was eyeing them warily, as though he was sizing them up and approaching predators. A fleeting idea brought the thought that this might be someone who worked for the Thorkul's, otherwise he probably wouldn't be walking this way. Since he was alone, he could be easily pressured into talking about his wayward employers.

 

Looking over at his partner he caught Duo's eye and they had a moment of silent communication. Turning back to the steadily approaching target, Duo turned on his mega-watt smile. This seemed to make the boy even more wary than before, perhaps he had some sense.

 

Stopping a few feet away, the boy didn't say anything, and just eyed them and the surrounding area. No one was in sight, so he must have decided that it was alright to speak, and inform them of his thoughts, "You do know this isn't exactly a public area, right?"

 

Duo's smile turned sharp, and winked as he pulled his badge out of the right breast pocket of his uniform. "That would make some difference if we were the public, kid."

 

The boy's eyes narrowed, but Heero got the strangest feeling that it wasn't due to the fact that Duo had called him 'kid', or at least, not the real reason. He studied the badge for a moment, scrutinizing the details for a second before looking over at Heero and asking, "So why are you parked down this particular side street?"

 

Sharp blue eyes narrowed at the question. Heero studied the boy again now that they were close enough, he noted the dark bags underneath dull purple-grey eyes. Wavy dark brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that seemed to end below the shoulder blades. He was only about 5'11", but the way he held himself made him look slightly smaller, as though he was waiting for the first sign of aggression to bolt.

 

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Heero snapped, trying to reign in his irritation at interrogating a kid to get some straight answers.

 

One dark eyebrow was raised at that, and then the boy shrugged and said, "Okay," promptly starting to walk around the pair. However, Duo blocked his path, the smile becoming determined - it was always amazing to Heero how much the man could convey by simply smiling.

 

"Then again, you can answer a few of our questions," Duo's use of the word 'can' caught the boy's attention.

 

"Can I?" he asked, his other eyebrow meeting the other further up his forehead.

 

Heero grunted in some semblance of an affirmative and, pointing to the property they hadn't been able to enter, asked, "You work on this property?"

 

The boy seemed to still completely for a moment, studying them once again, before replying, very slowly, "I suppose you could say I'm a makeshift housekeeper."

 

Duo's eyes lit up again and his smile became a little more mischievous. Both of them had caught the fact that the person in front of them hadn't actually answered Heero's question. His partner tended to get excited when they had to work answers out of someone trying to cleverly avoid direct answers, but only when it wasn't simply a bunch of muscle head's working around an interrogation.

 

Refraining from rolling his eyes heaven-ward out of irritation took a surprising amount of willpower as he stated, "You were asked if you work at _this_ property."

 

The boys face went an blank before he nodded in affirmation. It would appear that he was entirely unwilling to volunteer anything beyond what he had to.

 

Duo then took a turn and asked, in a gratingly cheerful voice, "Well, that's a start. By the way, what's yer name?""

 

Squirming now, the boy looked more and more uncomfortable each time they spoke. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion before he said, "You know, I find it odd that two... agents are here, standing on a side street, obviously trying to get information about something involving the Thorkul family. Would you not be better off simply getting information from the staff within the estate? Not some random person walking along the street?"

 

Heero barely restrained himself from hissing at the boy. They had already hit that particular roadblock and spent the last hour verbally wrestling with the security guards at the gate, he wasn't in the mood for this. A brief thought flashed through his mind that had him pondering the boys hesitation at the word 'agents', but he pushed that aside in favor of the current problem. "My partner asked you a question."

 

The scowl he got in return spoke volumes about the boys feelings at Heero's insistence and tone of voice. Then he opened mouth and the words that came out gave Heero the nearly overwhelming urge to strangle the strange boy. "If you haven't been able to get anything from the staff at the house, that means you probably don't have the authority to demand answers from anyone or get on the property. Speaking of, you haven't given me your names, either. Which means I don't have to tell you a single thing. _Agent._ "

 

With that parting gem, he left the two agents standing between the barrier and their vehicle as he jogged down the street and disappeared around the corner. Heero was grumbling under his breath at the boy's attitude while Duo cackled madly next to him. Taking out his phone, he called the only person whom might be able to give them enough of an edge to get in.

 

The line rang three times before a click on the other end indicated that the call had been accepted.

 

"Heero?" came the smooth, light male voice.

 

"Quatre, I need your assistance with something."


	3. Meet the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Morgan, just can't catch a break... or can he?

The last two days were spent taking care of the rather alarmingly long list of chores the Thorkuls had left for me. I was exhausted, but I had been able to set a reasonable pace and finished everything while having the time to perform my usual exercise's. Now, I was left with five days of isolation and blissful peace. Given that no one knew exactly how the Thorkuls treated me, I didn't have to work on maintaining the exterior of the property. That would give the staff the wrong impression, after all. Normally my isolation meant being forced to remain in the basement room until the company left, or being locked in the small supply closet on the second floor until someone remembered to let me out (see, some parallels to good ol' Harry).

 

So, to say that I was enjoying the solitude was an understatement. I was in the music room on the first floor, practicing the violin. Technically speaking, the instrument belonged to Andrew, but like most things his parents gave him, he had abandoned it for the next shiny toy. I had needed to learn very slowly, but practicing on a fake gave me good enough muscle memory that playing the actual violin didn't result in screeching. I stayed in the room for the majority of the day and decided somewhere around three that I should take a break. Not wanting anyone outside to see something amiss, I put everything back in place before opening the curtains again.

 

On my way across the foyer, I found out that I had decided to take a break in the nick of time. The front doors burst open, causing me to reach into the pocket of my old sweatpants and grasp the wand in my thigh holster.

 

When the Thorkul's walked in I froze, and it took a massive amount of willpower not to turn around and run down to the basement. Anya was screeching at her husband in German, her pale face blotchy from rage. Evan's expression was thunderous as he hissed at his secretary, Dashiel Gadd, while he pulled Andrew by the arm, whom was looking an unpleasant mix between indignant and annoyed.

 

Everyone seemed to come to a complete standstill when they saw me. Andrew sneered at my appearance, Evan and Dashiel ignored my presence, while Anya's ugly flush seemed to intensify as her glare turned venomous. She charged forward like an angry bull and snatched my bicep in a vice grip, dragging me behind her like a rag doll as she continued to rant in German. I could understand enough to know that she was upset about some kind of 'upstart', and 'forcing the issue', then something about 'stupid regulations'. It was taking most of my training to force myself not to react to the way Anya was treating me.

 

This happened on a regular basis, me having to force myself not to leave bodies on the ground when attacked. I admit, having to remain in the moment helped with some of the symptoms of PTSD I had shown after the war, but having to bow down to the violence and abuse these people dished out has been a different kind of hell.

 

Anya had dragged me to the guest room that was used as a show place for the social worker assigned to my case. The place was decorated like some schizophrenic teenager lived here, with random things scattered around the room that I'm sure someone thought would look good enough. The social worker was in the Thorkul's pocket, so even though this room wouldn't be able to fool her, she did nothing. When I had managed to call her for help, not only had she told me that I was a liar and overreacting, but she had called Evan on me. The woman didn't give a damn about me as long as her bank account came out a little more flush each time she did a report on my 'family'.

 

Anya jerked the door open and shoved me in, her foot was sticking out and I couldn't catch myself so I landed as safely as I could manage. My dear 'mother' sent a vicious kick into my side, and I grunted at the contact. Obviously not satisfied with that, she sauntered over to my left hand and pressed her silver tipped stiletto heal onto the top of my hand. Leaning her torso forward until she was at a 45-degree angle, she ground out, "You will fix yourself up and wait down in the parlor, you will be the perfect little boy or I swear I will flay your skin from your body."

 

When I only nodded, my jaw clenched, she pressed her heel down and I felt something snap. Sickening pain jolted through my arm and I let out a small cry, then rasped out the usual, "Yes, Ma'am."

 

Sneering at my prone form, she spun around and left, muttering under her breath. Hissing out a breath, I slowly got up and began to rush around the room, not wanting a repeat of before. My hand, however, was causing problems. I couldn't move the damn things without shards of pain radiating from my hand. Biting my lip, I decided that the only thing for it was to use my wand. Given that the Ministries of Magic around the world still considered one an adult of age at seventeen, I didn't have to worry too much about using magic in my place of residence. Unfortunately, fixing my injuries was something that I was severely punished for, so the hand and my old bruises remained as they were. I cleaned up and dressed myself with a flick of the wooden stick and stowed it back in its holster. The wonderful thing about the strip of leather that went around my thigh was the fact that it masked my wands presence and wouldn't allow me to lose it, even when Evan threw it across the room. Thankfully, I had managed to convince the muggles that breaking the wand would result in serious injury, so they hadn't tried to snap it, yet.

 

Breathing hard, I made my way to the parlour in my usual skulking fashion. Much easier to avoid anyone's wrath when they didn't actually know you were there.

 

When I reached the parlour I noted that no one had come down yet. Not wanting to take the chance that Gadd might force me to sit with anyone to make it look good, I took position over by a window in the corner. Feeling about as small as I possibly could I flinched when the rest of my 'family' came into the room and sat on the right side. Their position was opposite the door, like mine, so that they would be able to see whoever it supposedly was that was going to come in. Hearing footsteps coming towards the parlor I tensed even more, feeling as though my spine was about to snap under the pressure. When the two agents from a few days ago walked into the room when Gadd opened the door, behind two unfamiliar faces, I nearly fainted.


	4. Inside the Fox's Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of year assignments are killing me, will try to post more often.

Duo leaned against the first vehicle next to Heero, as Quatre and Une climbed out. The Preventer Agent understood just how unusual it was for the head of the agency to come out on an operation with her underlings, but he also understood that he wasn't even close to the only one who wanted to capture this particular prey. Duo had his serious 'I'm working' expression in place as he surveyed the dour looking manor. To him, the place stank of privilege and stagnation, something the former pilot viewed as a sin. He caught Heero watching a tall, skinny man with tawny hair standing by the large double doors at the entrance of the mansion. He wore glasses and appeared to be surveying the group with a sharp intelligence, as well as a good deal of disdain.

Then Quatre took the lead, and began to walk forward, Lady Une behind with Duo and Heero taking up the rear, the disdain disappeared and a fake smile took its place.

“Mr. Winner,” he intoned, holding his hand out for a shake, “I am Dashiel Gadd, Mr. Thorkul’s secretary.”

Quatre smiled and shook his hand, turning to introduce the rest of the group, and indicated their superior, “This is Lady Une, head of the Preventer Agency, and this is Heero Yuy and his partner Duo Maxwell.”

Gadd nodded and gave a pained smile in their general direction, “If you would all follow me, the Thorkul’s are awaiting your arrival in the parlor.”

The secretary led the group into the main hall as Duo observed the movement of the security team’s progress. He felt a trickle of relief when he realized that they weren’t following the rest of them inside, but didn’t put his guard down.

The mansion was just as depressing on the inside as it was on the outside, with dark red and grey wallpaper contrasting with dark hardwood floors that creaked with every step they took. Antiques sitting on pedestals and shelves lined the halls, as well as a few small tables placed in between. The lighting wasn’t very bright and there didn’t appear to be any sort of windows to allow natural lighting anywhere he could see. A little bit of tension eased out of his shoulders at not seeing any alcoves where someone could easily hide, but there were far too many rooms they passed to be comfortable. Patting his concealed firearm for reassurance, he caught Heero’s blank but tight expression out of the corner of his eye.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance, he focused back on the present and watched as Gadd opened a door inward and held his arm across his torso, motioning for them to enter.

Allowing the other four to enter before him, he indicated to Gadd with a sharp shark’s smile that he insisted the other man enter first. There was no way he would allow this creep anywhere near his back.

Closing the door with a snick, Duo looked around the room and noticed first the posh looking family that sat on the left side of the room, and then he saw the boy they had met a few days ago, standing in a corner. His eyes met Heero’s and they shared a look of surprise (not that anyone else could tell) before looking at Quatre as he once again introduced the group. Duo studied the boy as Quatre opened the conversation with the same old dry platitudes about the house and the weather, yadda, yadda… He noticed immediately that the boy was wearing a tasteful ensemble that looked like it would fit the Thorkul boy far better and cost a small fortune. Another notice was that he wasn’t exactly cowering, but he wasn’t brimming with confidence either. Then he saw that along with looking rather pasty, he was holding his left hand behind his back in an awkward position.

Cocking his head to the side, he stared a little longer before turning to look at the others assembled in the room. Gadd was standing to the side wearing an expression that made him look like he had swallowed a lemon. The oldest Mr. Thorkul had thinning light brown hair that was greying at the temples, and his body language appeared aggressive as well as defensive, the combination put him on edge. Mrs. Thorkul appeared to have a stick shoved up her ass as she looked at the crowd with disapproval, which ruined the superficial beauty of her blond hair and grey eyes. The son, however, looked like a real brat, and his body language made him think that the boy was sulking, his muddy brown hair and clothing looking like they had come directly from some crazy fashion show.

All in all, Duo wasn’t impressed, and he was becoming impatient, which was when Lady Une finally spoke for the first time.

“Mr. Thorkul, I would like to invite your family to come and see me at the Preventer’s headquarters.” Well, it would appear Duo wasn’t the only one tired of the bullshit. “Your young charge, Morgan Sinclair, has not been registered for the Family Reconstruction act, which is required by law. I want you to bring him to the agency for registration no later than tomorrow afternoon.”

Thorkul puffed up in indignation, as he prepared to argue with Une-Baby, before Quatre cut off the tirade before it could begin. “We all know that as loyal members of the Sanq Kingdom it would be your last wish to allow resistance of such an important law. Which is why our superior Lady Une wished to come see you in person. You see, we were very concerned when you never initiated contact after the numerous attempts in which the Preventer’s Agency tried to contact you. So, instead of wasting everyone’s time, we wished to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible without involving outsiders. Mr. Sinclair, as a fellow human being, is subject to the laws that took effect all over the globe and the colonies after the Eve Wars. Such an infraction as not submitting a sample of DNA for the Family Reconstruction Act is laid at the feet of the ones whom were in custody of Mr. Sinclair at its conception.”

The patriarch seemed to relax at the implication that he was not considered at fault for the non-submission of Sinclair’s DNA. Glancing at the kid, I could see confusion in his eyes, even if the rest of his face was a blank slate. The lack of comprehension raised my hackles, but I had to snort at the obvious difference between the adopted son of the Thorkul family and the actual heir. I would eat my own hair before I bet that the brat on the couch could show half as much restraint as the kid by the window.

After a bit, with much more schmoozing on Quatre’s part, we all left the mansion with the appointment set. The fact that the kid’s registration wasn’t complete was the perfect bait, the appointment was the hook, and now all we had to do was wait for the prize.


	5. A Rainy Day

The fact that I had been shoved into the basement after the Agents and two others had left yesterday was no hardship for me, despite twisting my ankle on the tumble down the stairs. Everyone had left me alone other than Anya bringing 'suitable' clothing for me to wear when we went to Preventer Headquarters (there are no words to describe how thankful I was that a sulking and angry Andrew hadn't been the one to do that). There were moments when I had been tempted to beg the Preventers not to leave me here while they buttered up Evan. I wasn't one hundred percent sure what their real intentions had been, but I had a feeling that this Family Restriction Act, or whatever it was called, was a smokescreen. Meaning that I was closer than I ever had been to my goal. Sitting on my bed and trying to focus on anything but the pain in my shoulder, back, left hand, and right ankle at 5 AM in the morning was surprisingly not difficult, as I stared at the blue suede messenger bag on the cinderblock table to my left.

I hadn't kicked up a fuss, or used my magic, or my more physical yet no less effective skills against my family for the last year. The understanding that no one would help me had been a painful one, but it also meant that the only way out of this was to use whatever means I had available to me. Revenge wouldn't change the past, but it would most likely mean an escape from my own personal prison cell. My meek acceptance of my 'role' meant that for the most part I was ignored unless someone was looking for stress relief... or bored. Anyway, this also meant that Evan and Dashiel were under the impression that I was sufficiently cowed and that I would never try and upset the balance of my having it 'easy'. Hence, they didn't care whether they were discussing sensitive matters in front of me while I cleaned Evan's office, found me organizing files in the archive Evan had hidden behind a bookcase, present while they opened the large vault in the basement, or even getting me to destroy documents in the small burn barrel next to the furnace in the basement.

Nope, no one cared, and no one restricted me as long as it was a part of my responsibilities as the adopted son of the prestigious Thorkul family. No matter how much I had to supress my instincts, or how scared I got, I remained passive and silent, and oh boy, had it paid off. My magic was not used in anything that could make my life easier, or less painful, in case anyone found out, but I did happen to use it on my messenger bag. Giving the throw-away from Andrew a few little tweaks, allowing the interior to hide anything inside from plain view unless I wanted otherwise. The limited space of the fashionably faded blue material revealing nothing of the multitude of papers hidden within the folds of fabric. I had put my pack with the food and my secret stash in as well. Despite my doubts, I had decided to be ridiculously optimistic about my chances today and brought the only possessions I had bought or recovered with my own strength.

The sound of a hand sharply rapping on the door to my room was the only indication I received that it was probably time to leave. As I quickly used magic to make myself semi-presentable I mentally prepared myself for the long drive in insufferable silence with my ‘family’. I couldn’t help but hear the echoes of that man’s –… hmmm… I think his name was Winner… whatever – word’s from yesterday. When he had been skillfully manipulating Evan into not getting himself arrested for being an asshole, he had called me a “fellow human being”. I couldn’t help the bitter twist of my lips at that. I knew that technically speaking that my species was human, but I was far from what anyone’s definition of ‘human’ was. My ability to do magic wasn’t unique, but because the ability had been blocked for the majority of my life I hadn’t learned it the normal way…

A bang from the doorway to the basement had me jumping and then crouching into a defensive stance. Right hand holding my wand at the ready to weave magic and left clenched into a fist, which sent shards of stabbing pain up my arm. I would have preferred a knife at the least, but it wasn’t smart to let the people with power over you know that you had a weapon they associated with violence. I had never relished the thought of being hunted down like an animal for getting overly aggressive in defending myself.

A muffled shout reached my ears, “Hurry up! Stupid idiot.”

When the words penetrated my adrenaline soaked brain, I couldn’t help a snort. Andy never was very patient… or good with insults, being a moron on a constant ecstasy high during school probably didn’t help.

When I climbed into the front seat next to the chauffer it took another fifteen minutes for Evan to drag his son out of the house and into the limousine. The blessed quiet of the sectioned off ‘servant’ area of the transportation was a welcome relief. I knew that it would be quite a drive to reach the main Preventers headquarters, whatever that was, so I had time to relax before my last ditch attempt to free myself from that God-forsaken hell-hole. There had been a constant anxiety after the meet-n-greet yesterday that I would have to sit in the back like I normally did, but I had been blissfully proven wrong. The silence up front didn't bother me a jot, and I was more than happy to let the man next to me focus on the road. Letting my mind drift, I remembered the badges I had seen the one called Agent Maxwell (and wasn't that ominous) had shown me what felt like an eternity ago. I hadn't had a clue what to call them. Given their attitudes and general air of menace, I had guessed and thankfully been correct. The way that the other one, Agent Yuy, had considered me gave me the impression that I hadn't been careful enough. However, I was hoping that it would give me an advantage when evidence of Evan's 'business' suddenly showed up in a convenient location.

Contemplating the scenery of elite suburbia, I lost myself in thought of this Family Reservation(?) Act that the stern Lady Une had mentioned. The name itself didn’t hold any meaning for me, but I could tell from the explanations and schmoozing that the likelihood of any of it directly affecting me was close to nothing. I had experienced my childhood, my adolescence in the arms of a mother I had loved, a sister I had thought of as a best friend - and after my mother died - a father whom I could tease and argue with. Then, they had all died, and I had been left with ashes and husks on a battlefield for company. I knew my family, even extended, was gone because my grandmother had been a genealogist, plus I hadn't even been born in this country. There was nothing left but a broken heart and soul weary of an empty world.

My morose line of thinking was broken when the chauffer stopped at some high-end gas station attached to what looked like a car dealership halfway through the drive. Since everyone was getting a bathroom break and ridiculously expensive nibbles, I slipped across the road to a much cheaper gas station. Andy would once again take forever, which was why we had left earlier than needed. The brat didn’t care about time constraints or basic manners of not being late for an appointment with what was, apparently, a government agency.

After relieving myself in the filthy bathroom beside a closet, I peeked at the 'healthiest' food they could provide and thanked my lucky stars I had brought the food meant for surviving the Thorkul vacation. Well, I supposed it didn’t matter either way; if the evidence I had collected worked I would be given to a different family, and if it didn’t, I would be most likely beaten to death for daring to try damaging the family’s precious reputation.

Being completely ignored by the chauffer for the next half of the journey wasn’t unusual for me. I almost snorted at the food that the patriarch had provided for him (I never got food that good… if I was fed in the first place). I bided my time by slowly eating the sustenance I had pilfered and trying not to crawl out of my own skin in a fit of slowly growing nerves. There was a desperate need that my brain was trying to convey for rest, but I didn’t feel anywhere near comfortable enough to try and sleep when my ‘family’ was so close by… even if there was a witness.

When we finally reached a large building with a globe on the front façade, I was ready to run down the street screaming if it meant some relief from my swirling thoughts and increasing anxiety. Taking a deep breath, I got out of the vehicle and followed sedately behind the Thorkul family, praying all the way to the front desk that I would be allowed to go to wherever the blood test would be performed alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I suck at regular updates. Hope you like the new chapter


	6. A Pilot's Heart

            The courtyard in front of the headquarters was very quiet today, which was normal for this hour. Wufei’s vantage point allowed him to observe the comings and goings from Preventer Headquarters as he waited for Lady Une to arrive. Lady Une had called all of the former Gundam Pilots here with a certain mission in mind, one which was assigned to Yuy and Maxwell. Anything that had to do with the braided idiot was bound to give him a headache, but he found himself curious about what exactly his superior would want with all of them. Glancing to the right, he observed Quatre, his little lover, speaking quietly with Trowa. After the war had finally ended, all of the Gundam pilots had been at loose ends, unsure of their purpose. When Une had suggested a public safety system she was working on they had all jumped at the chance to feel useful again.

            Quatre, of course, was only brought in as a part time agent, as he had a very large corporation to run. Wufei had no way of pinpointing when exactly his feelings had changed from brother’s in arms to something more, but if he had learned one thing from his life, it was that time was limited for each person. The blond in question had been sensing his feelings with his space heart, but he had told Wufei that he hadn’t been sure who they were aimed at, and had been nervous to say anything. A small smile tugged at his lips in memory.

The moment was ruined by a certain menaces whining.

“Why do all of you have to be here again?” Duo asked, his violet eyes flashing in annoyance.

Wufei responded by snapping, “It doesn’t matter why we’re here Maxwell, we were told to be here and so we are. Stop complaining and act like a respectable agent for once.” Although his tone was less than nice, he knew that Duo was, in fact, a very capable agent. He simply wished for the millionth time that the braided idiot would act like he was.

            Quatre hid a snigger behind his hand and Trowa’s mouth twitched up in his version of a smile. Duo was obviously about to start arguing when the door to the hallway opened and Lady Une walked in. Wufei automatically came to attention.

            “Well, I’m glad to see that nothing… nor anyone, has been blown up yet,” came the dry observation of their superior. Sitting down at her desk, she braided her fingers in front of her chin and her normal stern expression came back. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I have gathered all five of you here. Has either agent Maxwell or Yuy discussed their current case with any of you?”

            Quatre nodded his knowledge while both Wufei and Trowa merely looked mildly curious. Lady Une nodded, obviously expecting this response. “Well, the target of this particular mission is one Evan Thorkul. We’ve been trying to pin him down for a very long time, and several of our people are sure that there is something else to his role in the Eve wars. However, at the moment we are merely going to arrest him on what we can prove, so we have him exactly where we want him.”

            This was met with absolute silence as the five former pilots processed these words before she continued, “The main problem that we have had, however, is your notoriety…”

            Quatre continued where she had left off, the sudden understanding in his eyes had Wufei catching on as well, “You want us to be out of the path of the backlash for arresting such a high-profile target.”

            For a moment, there was a creeping sort of tension in the air before Lady Une nodded in acknowledgement of Quatre’s words. “This case is very important to the Preventer’s. The problems we have had with the former elite taking advantage of this world’s newfound peace, are creating distinct rifts between the social classes. There will always be problems where there are different people, but this should be a problem that we can solve peaceably and I intend to do so. Therefore, if today’s operation goes smoothly, all of you will be on paid leave until I say otherwise. Now then, are there any other issues or questions?”

            Wufei immediately wanted to protest being essentially put in time out because people knew what his face looked like, but a slight cough had everyone’s attention focused onto Duo. Lady Une watched him with an expectant expression. “Ah, yes. You wanted to discuss the Sinclair boy before the Thorkul’s arrived, didn’t you, Agent Maxwell?”

            Duo grinned, but it didn’t hold any of his usual idiotic cheer, Wufei felt a stirring of concern for the braided menace. He felt a hand squeeze his and Wufei looked down to see an equal amount of concern on Quatre’s face.

            “Well, for starters, I feel like I should bring up the fact that we actually met the kid after we got booted from the property on that first try,” Duo explained. Heero nodded at this and Wufie felt a wiggle of apprehension at the back of his mind. Why on earth would they have had to bring Quatre in on something when they had met a member of the family beforehand? Shouldn’t that have gotten them inside? He might not know the specifics about the case, but he had heard about this from his lover not long ago. Wufei could also see the look of slight confusion on Quatre’s face.

            “He looked unhealthy, like he didn’t eat enough or get enough sleep. His clothing was quite run down and old. When we questioned him, he did not tell us who he was and rather than correcting us insinuated that he was a member of staff on the property,” Heero elaborated.

            “His exact wording was ‘makeshift housekeeper’. We had no idea who the kid was until we saw him standing in a corner of the room when we met the family,” Duo continued, his face creasing into a frown. “He was standing as far away from them as he could without standing on the opposite side of the room, now that I think about it. Something that I noticed pretty quick though, is that the kid was injured. He was trying to hide it and he got away with it pretty well while everyone else was distracted.”

            Lady Une steepled her fingers in front of her chin as she considered their words and then slowly nodded. “I will speak to Dr. Po before they-”

            Her slow agreement was cut off by the phone on the desk ringing. Picking it up, the five men waited in complete silence as Lady Une gave a short affirmative and hung up the phone.

            Looking back at Duo and Heero, she reported, “They’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't the longest chapter, and it took forever to post, but here it is!


	7. A Doctors Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so mean to Morgan... poor guy is way too stressed out as it is. We get to meet another kind soul

Dr. Sally Po wasn’t a woman who tolerated bullshit well. So, when Midii, er, Lady Une, called and told her to look much closer than was necessary for registration of Morgan Sinclair, she just nodded and went back to work. She knew that whatever her reasons, Lady Une’s purpose would be revealed in the medical report that she would compile on the young man who had been escorted to her infirmary. The woman who came with him, however, Anya Thorkul… she was sorely testing her patience.

            The woman had come waltzing into the infirmary, her Botox soaked face looking as immobile as a plastic doll. The biting, asinine comments she kept running had the junior Preventer agent who had escorted them fleeing as soon he had dropped them off. She wished she could do the same.

With a somber face (there was no way she was going to be able to fake a smile around this harpy) she greeted the two visitors, “My name is Doctor Sally Po, I’m the head of the Family Reconstruction Act. The fact that you haven’t been registered yet means that we have some paperwork to fill out, not just a blood test. As Mr. Sinclair is still considered a minor, I would appreciate it if you would follow my assistant into my office to take care of it Mrs. Thorkul.” That way I get some breathing room and quiet to do my job.

Mrs. Thorkul sneered, but nodded and bent towards her ward while Sally called over one of the assistants from another part of the infirmary. Hearing a few hissed words that quite frankly sounded vicious, she turned back in time to see the young man stiffen in reaction to whatever his adoptive mother had said to him.

            Straightening, Mrs. Thorkul sneered one last time and followed Matthew into the office Sally Po barely spent any time in. Preventer agents tended to injure themselves fairly frequently with almost no regard for their own health.

            Nodding to Sinclair she motioned over to a hospital style infirmary bed, she instructed him to remove his jacket and make himself comfortable.

            For some odd reason, he hesitated for a moment before taking his bag off of his left shoulder and slowly taking his jacket off. He winced whenever he so much as twitched his left hand and seemed to be in pain as he bent in an awkward way to remove the expensive looking material. The strangest thing was that during the entire time, he never uttered a sound.

            Frowning, Dr. Po came forward and asked, “Could you roll up your sleeves? I would like to take your blood pressure.”

            Blinking when the young man seemed to stiffen even more and pale, she asked, “Mr. Sinclair?”

            Opening and closing his mouth, the young man didn’t utter a single sound, his eyes darting around as though the correct answer was written on the walls of the sterile infirmary.

            Checking the office and confirming that Mrs. Thorkul was thoroughly occupied, she looked back at the nervous looking man in front of her and held out her right hand. “May I please look at your hand?”

            For a few agonizing moments Sinclair said nothing, then slowly raised his left hand, the long, somewhat ill-fitting, navy-blue sleeve covering his hand almost up to the tips of his fingers. Delicately, she peeled the soft material away and felt herself pale at the sight of horribly bruised skin and what appeared to be a broken metacarpal bone. The flesh between the fingers mixed with the bruising, red and swollen.

            Looking back at Sinclair, she saw that he was watching her steadily, observing her reaction and seeming to weigh her movements. The look reminded her strongly of a particular former Gundam pilot who was actually careful with his health.

            Thinking rapidly, she asked quietly, in a no-nonsense tone, “Are there any other broken bones? I need to treat them before we can move forward.”

            Holding her breath, hoping she hadn’t pushed too hard, she was strongly relieved when he slowly shook his head. With a voice, barely above a whisper he said, “Just a few bruises.”

            She nodded, he was still watching her, and told him to wait for a moment while she went to speak with one of her personal medical assistants. Quickly, she told the young woman to distract Mrs. Thorkul and draw out the registration process so that she could take a rapid x-ray and treat a broken bone.

            Within a half hour, Dr. Sally Po had ascertained that the middle metacarpal bone of Sinclair’s hand was indeed broken, he had a nasty twisted ankle, bruises on his back, right shoulder, left calf, and a bump on the back of his head. Ribs were visible through skin, his cheeks seemed slightly hollow, he seemed exhausted, and she made sure to take basic information to add to her diagnosis. Treatment took an extra hour, during which she was careful not to ask or imply anything about his family, since he was jumpy enough, and then finally got around to drawing blood for the database. At this point, though, given that he had told her about his family history and previous living arrangements, she doubted there was much point to inputting him. Her only focus was getting him out of the care of his adoptive family.

            When Mrs. Thorkul finally came out of the office she was practically spitting fire, then her eyes focused on the cast Sinclair was now sporting, and she was looking at the boy like he was source of all evil. Sally’s first instinct was to throw her out of the infirmary, but she sternly reminded herself that she needed to get everything in order so these monsters wouldn’t have any chance of fighting back when they removed Sinclair from them.

            “Well, I take it that you have finally managed to complete your job, Ms. Po?” Mrs. Thorkul had purposefully left the proper title off of Sally’s name.

            The smile that Sally plastered onto her face felt wooden and more like a baring of teeth than a smile, “Why yes, Mrs. Thorkul, if you’ll just wait here, I will call an agent to escort you and your son to the rest of your family.”

            Sally didn’t miss the flash of disgust in the woman’s eyes when she had called Sinclair her son. Making sure the poor assistant who had needed to delay the woman remained within eye and earshot of the pair, she quickly called back the junior Preventer who had been in charge of escorting them back. She studiously ignored the grumbling that came from the other end of the line. Going back to her patient, she gave Sinclair instructions on the care of his cast and ankle, and was about to give him some pain medication when Mrs. Thorkul snatched the bottle from her hand before he could take it.

            Giving Sally a triumphant, sharp smirk, she explained, “I wouldn’t want my dear Morgan to lose his medication.”

            Barely managing to suppress the urge to growl, Sally was distracted by the doors to the infirmary opening and revealing a rather wooden looking junior agent.

            Sinclair stumbled getting up off of the bed when they were leaving, nearly knocking the vials of blood and reports off of the medical tray in the process. They left with their escort and with a feeling of urgency the doctor began moving around with purpose in every step. Which is why Sally didn’t notice, until after she had put all the pertinent information and samples for the Act in the system, that there was an unfamiliar file in the stack that Sinclair had almost knocked over…


	8. Quatre's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! The 'explosive' pilot gets his debut!

            Quatre was used to dealing with snooty, arrogant people. After all, being the CEO of the Winner corporation lead to plenty of undesirable meetings. However, if Evan Thorkul didn’t stop speaking within the next five minutes, he was tempted to set fire to the nearest object so they could evacuate the building. Most of the people in this room, other than the sulking heir and Evan himself, looked like they were ready to end the problem in a slightly more violent fashion. The secretary from their first meeting, Gadd, was watching all of this with narrowed eyes. The man suspected something, and the atmosphere in the room wasn’t helping.

            The past half hour had been filled with painful small talk, combined with Thorkul trying to convince him to partner in some sort of sketchy investment that left a bad taste in Quatre's mouth. The man seemed to think that even though the head of the entire Preventer's Agency was sitting at her desk in the room with them, he could ignorantly say whatever he wanted to. When the door opened and the final members of the family entered, the frustration in the room mounted and he could tell that Lady Une and the other former pilots were getting tired of this as well. He almost laughed when the agent who had escorted the two, practically ran out of the room like the hounds of hell were biting at his heels as soon as Lady Une dismissed him.

            Looking the boy, Sinclair, over, he was shocked by not only the spike in fear, but also a dizzying mess of emotions that swept over him. Frustration, anxiety, sadness, pain, excitement, and relief vied for his attention and he rubbed the ache in his chest with a small wince. When Mrs. Thorkul sat down, the tension ratcheted up a few notches, because Evan’s wife sat on the other side of her son, and Sinclair hovered at the back of the couch. This in itself wasn’t all that unusual, however, his eyes were darting around the room, and he wouldn’t stop moving. The pilots immediately noticed the pale blue cast that the Preventers infirmary used covering the boys left arm and hand all the way up to the fingertips. He appeared very pale and tired.

            Lady Une offered some tea to the new additions, when Mrs. Thorkul sniffed and declined, she somehow managed to make a two-letter word sound condescending. Mr. Sinclair politely declined, his voice barely audible. There was a moment of awkward silence, laced with the feel of calm before battle. They had been trying to get Mr. Thorkul on his own, so that the lawyer and family wouldn’t stall the process of arrest or create a scene. Now, that would be impossible, it seemed.

            “Well, seeing as now you have everything you need, I believe we will be leaving,” Evan’s hard voice rang out like a gunshot, causing Sinclair to jump.

            Before he could stand, Quatre spoke, “Actually, Evan, - do you mind if I call you Evan? – I was wondering if I could speak to you son about his schooling.”

            There was a slight pause before Thorkul’s chest puffed out, deciding to ignore the fact that Quatre was ignoring his 'status' by using his first name, “Well, Andy has always been such a point of pride for the family, I wouldn’t mind at all-”

            “Pardon me, sir, I was actually referring to your adopted son,” you couldn’t have cut the silence with an ax. Ignoring it, Quatre continued, watching the now seemingly frozen young man across from him, “I took the liberty of perusing your files, Mr. Sinclair, after our meeting yesterday. It would appear that you haven’t been to an educational facility since before the reforms. Most adults have enrolled themselves in courses recommended by the government, however you yourself were living alone and working before the new Age Restriction laws came about. I was wondering why you never tried to take some courses?”

            Anya stood, appearing to bristle under his questioning. “Morgan gets everything he requires in our care Mr. Winner, he didn’t take proper care of himself before he came into our lives. He still doesn’t, he fights us at every turn and is an ungrateful little brat-” Quatre noticed that the exhausted/alert expression on Sinclair’s face was slowly turning stony and blank “-he causes our poor Andrew’s learning to suffer because of his behaviour. We tried to tutor him but they refuse to work with the Morgan because of his attitude.”

            She was glaring at Quatre by the end of her rant, and everyone on his side of the room was staring at Sinclair, who was now staring at a wall, utterly still and silent.

            Instead of snapping back, Quatre raised a delicate blond eyebrow and pierced Anya with his cerulean blue eyes, “I was asking Mr. Sinclair, Mrs. Thornhold. Also, I was not speaking about his education under your care, now, was I?”

            The look on Anya’s face would have made Quatre laugh if he wasn’t so angry, he could feel the smugness rolling off the Thorkul heir and the irritation and anxiety coming off of his father.

            This time, Heero spoke up, “That is an interesting question, however, I would also like to know why you didn’t introduce yourself when we ran into you a few day’s ago, Mr. Sinclair.”

            The only response from the boy was a slight twitch in his eyelid.

The family turned to look at him, and Evan practically hissed, “Why didn’t you tell us that you met these fine gentlemen before?”

Sinclair appeared to be staring a hole through his adoptive father, almost looking through him and didn’t say a word.

In response, Evan shot to his feet and shouted, “You will answer me when I ask you a question!”

The resultant flinch had Duo and Trowa on their feet but they remained where they were standing. Evan glared at his adopted son for what seemed like an eternity before he seemed to hiss and almost deflate. Speaking again, he practically spat out, “Answer their questions Morgan, or do you want to seem rude on top of petulant?” The words almost seemed like a dare, and Sinclair’s face seemed to drain of blood as he and Evan seemed to be trapped by the other’s gaze.

Coughing, Quatre brought the two men’s attention back to himself. He had to dampen his space heart so that he could concentrate through the sheer magnitude of negative emotions in the room.

Smiling pleasantly, Quatre said, “We aren’t trying to interrogate you, Mr. Sinclair, I was merely curious. I am sure the same could be said for Agent Yuy.”

Sinclair seemed to swallow and nod, before replying in a rasping voice, “I’m sorry for my rudeness, I should have responded Mr. Winner, Agent Yuy.”

“It’s time we left, I apologize for my son’s behaviour. We’ll be having a nice, long chat when we get home,” the malicious tone of Evan’s voice was hard to miss as he reached for the arm that was encased in the cast.

Out of nowhere, Trowa was standing behind and to the side of Sinclair. The unibanged teen’s one visible green eye staring into Thorkul’s with an intensity that raised the hairs on the back of Quatre’s neck.

            The poor boy squeaked when he realized that someone was behind him and almost fell over when he tripped over the couch table behind the seats. Trowa reacted with his usual speed and grabbed his right arm and pushed him behind his back, standing between Sinclair and a now seething head of the family.

            “We. Are. Leaving,” the words were practically growled as he pointed at the door, glaring at his adopted son, whose pale face was now covered in a sheen of sweat.

            “No, you aren’t Mr. Thorkul. I won’t allow it,” Quatre’s voice came out like steel. All of the other pilots were watching the little blonde. They knew how much of a threat the unassuming boy could be if he was set off.

            Just as Evan looked like he was about to start screaming, Lady Une cut in, “Mr. Winner would be correct on that account, Mr. Thorkul.”

            The shocked silence that followed was broken again by Lady Une standing up from her desk and continuing, “According to Dr. Sally Po, we have more than enough evidence to remove Morgan Sinclair from your custody.”

            The satisfied, almost hungry, gleam in Une’s eyes told Quatre that there was far more to this than a reason to keep Sinclair away from his adoptive family.


	9. The Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan is not a happy camper

Morgan was in Hell, the actual Hell. This was the only explanation he could think of. Why else would he be fate’s bitch?

            The fact that these people were attempting to protect him was rather lovely, but this Lady Une wasn’t saying anything about the folder he had managed to drop into Dr. Po’s files. Which most likely meant that she hadn’t found it and he would have to go back with his family. None of his injuries could really be tied to child abuse, neglect maybe, but not enough to really help him. Morgan supposed he could scream ‘YES! THEY ARE EVIL INCARNATE AND I WANT OUT!’… but that didn’t seem like such a great idea when Evan was within spitting distance.

            Speaking of which…

            “I will not be disrespected in such a manner. You have no right to try and interfere with my personal business!” Evan was ranting, and the fact that he wasn’t trying to fight for his ‘son’, but was upset at being thwarted was rather telling. “And you,” the hiss and fury in Evan’s voice had the hackles on Morgan’s neck rising. “You think that after everything we’ve done for you, you can just walk away. Those ridiculous nightmares,-” which was why they put him in the basement instead of a random walk-in closet (an improvement if you asked him) “-the therapy we had to pay for,-” that was for PTSD from the war, which they only paid for three sessions “-and the humiliation we went through when you talked back to Danil Netvarad-” the idiotic asshole who seemed to believe he knew everything about the Canadian Civil War “-and your whining about being _independent_ because of your generation. Telling us that because of your abomination of a community already considers you an adult. You’re nothing but a freak and a useless piece of trash, just like your _family_.”

            Morgan felt something inside snap at that last word. His entire family was gone, and the program that had swallowed him whole when he had finally reached Sanq had given a summary of his past to the family that would eventually adopt him. When he had attempted to convince Evan to emancipate him, since the Wizarding Community considered 17 the age of majority, he had simply found another reason to treat Morgan like he was sub-human. However, the man had always seemed to understand not to cross a certain line. Attacking his family was off-limits, and he had had enough.

            Head snapping up and eyes flashing, he felt all of the anger, frustration, and hatred flush through his blood like a poison. Evan was still ranting, barely noticing the people around him, when two words stopped him cold. “Shut. Up.”

            Looking back at his adopted son, Evan opened his mouth, face contorted in childish fury, when his 'son' stepped around the nice green-eyed man with a predatory grace belying his pain and exhaustion.

            “I feel like we’ve had an unspoken agreement since I stepped over the threshold of that God-forsaken Hell-Hole you call a house,” Evan’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped, and the predator continued before he could open his mouth, his voice a purr with something dark underneath, “Do. Not. Insult. My family… I have refrained from doing something that would likely put me in prison and endured what you dished out because you cut off my… non-violent, escape routes.” Morgan started to walk in slow measured steps around Evan, constantly aware of the people around him. “Bribing the social worker who came to check on me, isolating me inside the house, threats to my safety, starving me to keep me weak… You didn’t honestly think that you beat me down, did you? You seriously thought that what you did was worse than surviving two wars that left me with nothing? Or were you arrogant enough to assume that because I came to the Sang Kingdom for asylum that I was trapped within your _rules_? That I was helpless to do anything against you?”

            Stopping when he reached the other side of the couch, his back to the door he took a few breaths. It was uncomfortable, knowing that there was an entry point behind him, but it was better than having all of those unknown elements behind him.

            Evan was sputtering incomprehensibly, but Morgan’s face remained a stone-cold blank, his eyes the only thing giving away his distaste for the man in front of him.

            Walking forward until he was directly in front of the man who had made his life miserable for the last two years, he asked in a harsh whisper, “Did you actually believe I would do nothing when I discovered just who you gave  _asylum_  to?”

            The color drained from the man’s face at the words, then he seemed to have a full body flinch before he lunged toward Morgan with a roar. Not even blinking, the twenty-two-year-old crouched and let the man’s midsection hit his shoulder before he grabbed the flailing arm and used his momentum to flip him onto the ground.

            Anya started screeching while Andrew was staring at his father dumbly, his brain obviously not able to process the fact that his adopted brother would actually defend himself.


	10. Big Brother???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa is given the answer he has always been looking for

       Trowa's day had started out normal, gone to odd, then suddenly exploded into all out insanity. The tall, auburn haired, twenty-six-year-old man watched in astonishment and incredulity as the small, broken boy suddenly transformed. He had automatically protected the boy, something about him had pulled at his heart strings the same way the animals he used to work with at the circus did. There was also the fact that the young man looked strangely familiar, even if he couldn't remember where from. Ignoring that, imagine his surprise when Morgan Sinclair had walked around him and started circling Thorkul like he was prey. His pretty, pale purple eyes lighting with a sort of rage and hatred that he had seen in his fellow pilots eyes during the war. Also, there was a sort of penetrating intelligence in his gaze that had Trowa suspecting the emotions displayed weren't only for the idiot standing next to his wife and son. 

        When the scrawny, injured Sinclair had thrown the man to the floor when he attacked with an ease that spoke volumes, the room was suddenly thrown into a cacophony - mostly from Thorkul's wife.

       Trowa carefully approached the enraged man with a forced calmness he had adopted around injured animals he started speaking in his usual soft voice. When he was within arms reach, Sinclair finally noticed him and all of his attention was centered on him. The soothing words caught in his throat as he saw a familiar look written across the other's face: anguish, frustration, and a deep seated fear. Knowing better than to pretend everything was fine, he simply looked into the purple-grey eyes with an understanding few people shared. 

        Sinclair's breathing turned ragged, and he allowed Trowa to close the distance so that he could lead him into an ante-room. The door was across from Lady Une's desk, and functioned as a more formal meeting place for guests. The conference room had comfortable wheeled chairs surrounding a dark brown oval-shaped table. Leading the now shaking man over to a chair, he went over to the water-cooler sitting in the back left corner and brought some water over. Silently, he offered it to Sinclair, who nodded in thanks and drained the cup. They both sat in utter silence, unable to hear anything in the other room.

        "Why?" the sudden question, spoken in a hoarse voice, startled Trowa. 

         Of course, the only indication that he was startled was a slight widening of his eyes. Looking to his left, he asked, "'Why' what?"

         His eyes fixed on the table, he clarified, "Why are you being nice?"

         Cocking his head to the side, Trowa answered, "I'm not being nice, I'm being decent."

         A twitch of the corner of his mouth told the taller man that Sinclair wanted to smile. Another moment of silence passed before Sinclair asked, "What's your name?" This time the pale eyes fixed on vibrant grass-green as the question left his lips.

         "Trowa Barton," was the simple reply as said man reached out a hand.

          Sinclair shook his left hand and there was another small twitch of his lips, before he said, "I realize you probably already know, but I'm Morgan Sinclair." They both sat quietly, before the door suddenly opened, which caused the poor guy to flinch violently, as Duo bounded into the room. He didn't pounce on Sinclair, as the hyperactive brunette usually did, instead dancing around the table with a crow of triumph before he collapsed into a chair on the opposite side. The rest of the group filed in while Duo explained that "bastard Thorkul" was officially in custody - this made Sinclair's head snap up to intently watch Duo - and that the mother and son had been ushered out because Gadd was also in custody. The former pilots watched with interest as that news seemed to cause Sinclair to almost deflate with relief.

           The five friends spoke quietly while Sinclair watched on as they waited for Lady Une to come, as Heero had informed them she would be back momentarily. When she did, however, the five were shocked when she went straight to a dumbfounded Morgan and bowed, her hand over her heart.

           "I can't thank you enough for the evidence you gave us Mr. Sinclair," her voice was serious and formal.

           Morgan turned beet read before he immediately and vehemently began to deny her praise, "I was just looking for a way out..."

           Lady Une smiled, "I suppose his dealing with a certain Doctor also had something to do with it?"

           Looking down, he nodded, not saying anything.

           "Regardless, without you, I doubt there would have been any evidence left to convict him with."

           That was the moment Dr. Po walked in, a file in her hand and a look of determination on her face. The others shuddered, knowing that look usually ended with one of them in the infirmary getting poked and prodded. Sinclair was still too busy studying his lap to notice the look on the blonde woman's face. Taking their seats, everyone around the table looked expectantly at the former OZ Commander. Morgan was looking up again as well, warily watching and waiting for the verdict to be dropped, dreading what might happen now that Evan and his attack dog were gone. 

           "Barton," Trowa tensed at Lady Une's address, "You have told me that you believed that you had a sibling."

           Quatre looked at him in confusion, Trowa guessed he could feel the anxiety that seemed to be rolling off of him in waves. "Even though I don't remember my life before I was taken in, I've always had the nagging feeling that I have a sibling, yes."

           Lady Une nodded, then gestured to Dr. Po, who looked at Trowa, a steely glint in her cornflower blue eyes. "Trowa, you and the other pilots submitted DNA to the FRA merely because it is standard procedure. Your files are under the highest security. However, today, your profile identified another DNA strand which identifies this person as a sibling."

            A deafening silence reigned as everyone stared at Trowa. Morgan was looking extremely confused and uncomfortable.

           "Who is it?" if it hadn't been for the complete lack of noise, the quietly asked question would have gone unheard.

           Smiling softly, Dr. Po looked Trowa in the eye (his other was covered by his fringe) and then looked over to his left. "Trowa Barton, I would like you to meet your brother, Morgan Sinclair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Betcha saw that coming... I have no idea if this is suspenseful or predictable. Let me know ur thoughts.


	11. A Long Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Une gets to observe a reunion and run a little damage control

            Lady Une had always prided herself on the practical side of her nature, balanced by her emotions. The times of a homicidal split-personality were over, and she was happy with the pitfalls of the morality she had discovered. However, the email she had received from Sally moments earlier had almost caused the normally reserved military woman to jump up and do a happy dance. Considering who it was that had delivered the news, she knew better than to doubt the information that there was enough evidence against Mr. Thorkul, and that annoying lawyer Gadd, to get an execution if they wanted.

            What had shocked her the most however, was the connection between these men and a barbaric doctor, who had done some horrific things in several countries while OZ was in power. The man was a monster and made some of the things perpetrated by OZ look like child’s play.

            Based on young Mr. Sinclair’s declaration back in her office, Lady Une had a sneaking suspicion that he had known the doctor on a personal basis. That was a large concern, which was why the information on Barton’s DNA match was such a relief. Both boys had been through Hell, and Morgan Sinclair would get the healing that he truly needed, physical and emotional.

            Watching the blood drain from Sinclair’s face and jerk into a standing position had Une re-evaluating her earlier relief.

            “W-wh-” Sinclair wheezed before he took a deep breath and said in a whisper-shout, “my brother is dead!”

            Trowa reached to out to him, standing up, but the poor boy stumbled back a bit to avoid the touch. Perhaps they should have waited a little longer to dump something this shocking onto the already frazzled Sinclair. He looked dazed, confused, and perhaps a little angry.

            Instead of trying to touch him again, Trowa spoke in a soothing tone of voice, “I don’t remember anything about the first five years of my life, all I know is that I was picked up by mercs. During the war, I looked for any information that would lead me back to my family, or the sibling that nagged at the back of my mind.” Sinclair seemed to cease all movement at that, staring into the green eyes of his brother and a look of intense concentration in his eyes. “I never found a single scrap of information. When I put my DNA in the database for the FRA, I never thought I would find anything.”

            There was a moment of silence, which was surprisingly broken by Sinclair, “My brother went missing when he was four years old.”

            It was Trowa’s turn to freeze all movement. His eyes trained on the face of his younger brother with a longing so intense that Une wanted to look away. Instead, she cleared her throat to bring the attention back to herself. She motioned for Sally to give the file she held to Sinclair, and said, “Why don’t we sit back down, relax, and discuss this. There are obviously some questions which we hope to be answered.”

            She used a soft voice in the hopes that it would allow the tense boy to relax a little bit. There was another moment before the elder sat back down slowly, his eyes now fixed on Quatre, who was giving him an encouraging smile. Une understood that the four boys connected to Trowa by the war would support their friend no matter what. She was just hoping that they wouldn’t resort to kidnapping if this newly discovered sibling decided he didn’t want to live with them. A slight movement caught Une’s attention and she saw that the younger boy was looking around the table at the other people in the room. He looked unsure of himself, lost, and a little scared.

            “Mr. Sinclair,” Wufei’s voice shattered the silence, causing Sinclair to jump slightly, “we are friends of Trowa’s. I am Wufei Chang. You’ve met Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, and Quatre Winner already, as well as Lady Une, and Dr. Po. If you or Trowa wish it, we can leave to give you both some privacy.”

            Duo appeared to be about to start whining, but Heero’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. When Lady Une looked back the boy was shaking his head, not denying, but as though he was trying to clear his head. Hesitantly he sat back down, as did everyone else whom had jumped to their feet at Sinclair’s sudden actions.

            They all remained quiet as he looked through the file, his face running through a plethora of emotions before it finally settled on one. Anguish.

            Slapping the file shut, surprising everyone (though no one showed it but Sally). He then turned towards Trowa, tears running down his face. Voice breaking, he said, “Jesus… my brother… I have family…”

            A choked sob escaped his lips and he buried his face in his good hand, the cast coming up to cover the other half in a strange sort of protective gesture. Trowa touched his right arm, and when he didn’t react, awkwardly leaned over the space and gently put his arms around his little brother. It took a while, but he calmed down eventually, Dr. Po handed both of them a tissue and put the box in the middle of the table. Duo was looking a little misty eyed.

            Clearing her throat, Une said, “Well, Mr. Sinclair, now that we’ve established your relation to Mr. Barton, we need to discuss your living arrangements.”

            The tenseness entering the subject of her focus was not lost on the people in the room. Ignoring this newfound anxiety, she pushed on. “Due to your previous living arrangements being deemed unsafe, you have a few options: you could apply to one of the families on reserve for generations caught by the new laws, or you could go to an orphanage and hope to be adopted.”

            The silence was thick and everyone was either staring at Sinclair whose gaze was fixatedly staring at the other wall, or Une. Ignoring the boring gaze of Trowa, she continued, “However,” Sinclair’s head snapped up to look at her with a glimmer of hope and a healthy dose of suspicion, “your brother is above the age of majority. Given that he has a job and has my approval should both of you decide you wish to live together, Trowa Barton could become your guardian.”

            Trowa turned in his chair and Sinclair turned his head so that they were both staring at each other. The moment stretched until Morgan finally spoke, his eyes never leaving his brothers. “I’m not a child. I don’t need a guardian, but I know that I don’t have a choice unless I want to be on the run until I hit twenty-five.” Trowa tensed at this, but said nothing, “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to live with another group of Thorkuls and I don’t want to live with a bunch of children who are far more likely to be adopted and actually want to be adopted… but if someone related to me…”

            He stopped speaking and looked down into his lap, as though afraid to voice the thought.

            “Will you come live with me? I don’t see you as a child. I don’t know you, and I want to. I would also like to hear about my family,” Trowa’s voice was matter of fact but his voice shook slightly on the last two sentences.

            Looking up again, Morgan took a deep breath and nodded slowly. Then he asked, his voice whisper soft, “Would you mind taking me somewhere? Before we go wherever it is you live?”

            Trowa seemed to deflate slightly, all of the tension Une hadn’t realized he had flowing out of him. “Yes, I see no problem with that as long as it is nearby.”

            Morgan nodded again, not saying a word, and Une leaned over to a small side table by the door, grabbing some paper she had put on it when she came in. “Here,” she handed the papers to Trowa before standing. “Make sure to give them to Wendi on the way out,” she turned to Morgan again, effecting a salute, “It was a pleasure to have met you Mr. Sinclair.” Ignoring the blush that appeared on his cheeks she turned to the rest of her staff, “Good work, everyone knows what to do.”

            Walking out of the room with Sally trailing behind, she felt the need for a drink.


	12. A Sad Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero attempts to puzzle out Morgan's strange behavior

            Heero found the silence that followed the ladies leaving to be a mix of anxiety and anticipation, though it was difficult to tell which emotion was stronger at the moment. The four boys watching all of this unfold had been stealing glances at each other the entire time. All of them trying to gauge what the others were thinking and having difficulty processing how fast this was all happening.

            The most obvious things that Heero noticed, was that the abused, broken boy sitting next to one of his best friends had given them exactly what they had been looking for. Another thing was that Morgan Sinclair had obviously been waiting for quite some time to escape from those ridiculous peacocks he had been forced to interact with. The last was that although these things had been unsuspected, the moment Sally had figured out Morgan was mistreated and the brother of a friend, she had prepared the adaption papers.

            A small smile twitched his lips as he watched Duo practically bouncing despite the tension in the room. This was always very amusing to the stone-faced agent, how his lover could be serious and yet at the same time, be excited. His hand was still on the man’s thigh and he squeezed a little, to remind him that the boy across from them didn’t actually know that they would be living together yet.

            A rustle of papers distracted him and he looked back at Trowa just in time to see him stacking the paper neatly and standing up. He offered his hand to his brother, who hesitated slightly before taking it and allowing him to help. He noticed that the boy looked utterly spent, like the last few hours had sucked out all of his energy.

            “There are probably a few things we need to discuss before we go home, but I think we should go wherever it was you wanted to, and then we can go back to your previous residence and get the rest of your things…” Trowa trailed off as Morgan shook his head.

            Holding up a blue messenger bag, the young man explained, “Everything I have is in here. The clothing and things in the upstairs bedroom are all just stuff to fool the social worker. Most of my clothing got thrown out when Andrew was being petulant,” he shrugged, like this was a normal occurrence, not appearing to be processing exactly what he was saying. “It was all getting to be more patches than anything. Besides, there isn’t anything that they gave me that I would want to keep.”

            There was a beat of silence before Trowa nodded and moved on, leading them all to the exit, handing the documents to Wendi as they passed. “Well, would you be ok with it if we got something to eat now?”

            Morgan started to tap his hand on his thigh in what Heero assumed was a nervous gesture. “Would you mind making a side trip to Magus Mercy Hospital first?”

            Heero almost tripped at the request. Why on earth would the boy want to go there? He had just been seen by the Preventer’s head doctor.

            Duo asked before anyone could comment on the odd request, “Why would’ya wanna go there, kid?”

            The boy stiffened, though, again, he had a strange feeling that it had nothing to do with Duo’s use of the word ‘kid’.

            “I asked Mr. Barton if we could go somewhere. I’m merely explaining which destination I had in mind,” was the stiff reply.

            There was an awkward pause as they reached the black sedan’s they used as transport before Trowa said, “That’s fine… if your uncomfortable calling me brother, could you at least call me by my first name?”

            Morgan stared at Trowa for a moment before he nodded, and shuffled awkwardly. Heero opened the passenger side door and motioned for him to get in. Again, the boy hesitated before climbing into the vehicle. He noticed for the first time how strangely the blue sweater he was wearing fit. The sweater had obviously been tailored for someone else.

            They all piled into the two vehicles and drove in relative silence to the hospital. Morgan had asked if they would all wait outside, but Trowa had explained in no uncertain terms that he would not be letting his new-found brother out of his sight.

            Morgan sighed, his expression turning slightly pained, before he walked ahead. Reluctance seeming to radiate from every step. He didn’t seem familiar with the hospital, which confused Heero quite a bit. When they reached the fourth floor, however, and stood in front of a set of double doors with the words ‘Psychiatric Wing’ his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

            The boy turned to them, his expression one of acute pain, and what appeared to be apprehension. He looked at Trowa and said, “I already explained this to Dr. Po. A relative of mine survived the war… in a sense…”

            Considering where they were, quite a few things finally made sense, yet also made the reason they were here all the more confusing. Trowa, thankfully, voiced one of the questions currently running through his mind. “Why are they here?”

            Head bowed, Morgan replied, “Because I brought her here with me,” before turning and walking in.

            The first thing they saw when they entered was a security station and nurses station combined. Several doors and systems separated the ward from the rest of the hospital. Morgan, no longer unsure, walked up to the desk and said, “Six visitors to see Katrina Sinclair.”

            As they all handed their I.D. over to get visitor badges, Heero ran the possibilities through his mind as he considered what they had learned from the minuscule information Morgan had already given them. Considering her last name, Heero thought that this relative could be his sister, or perhaps a paternal aunt.

            When they were let through the doors, an orderly explained that the patient in question was currently resting in her room, but the last time he had been there she was awake. As they walked, they saw few people wandering about. Most of them were staff, but a few lost looking or emotional people were shuffling about. The orderly was obviously fishing for information with pointed questions about why no one had come to visit before. His only reply was stony silence from Morgan.

            They stopped at a door labeled 451, with two nameplates. One was empty, the other read ‘K. Sinclair’.

            The orderly left then, with strict instructions to call him if she started to act up using the intercom or the call button in the room.

            Morgan seemed to be frozen for a minute before he turned around and looked at Trowa, his face a blank slate. He began to speak in a monotone voice, no inflection entering his words. "Trowa... there was a reason I wanted all of you not to come in. The woman we are visiting... she can't remember much of her life after..." he stopped, seeming to struggle with the words, his mask and voice seeming to crumble. "You can't tell her who you are, Trowa. You cannot tell her that you are her son."

            Trowa looked like he had been punched in the gut, his face paled and he opened and closed his mouth several times.

           Morgan spoke before he could compose himself, "I didn't know you would... act this way. I thought it would be better if you thought she was dead. When I brought her with me, I found a program that would take care of her for me. The Thorkul's wouldn't let me visit her." The poor kid was wringing his hands now, looking distressed by Trowa's continued shock. "If you can't... if it's too difficult for you not to say anything, I understand. But if you do want to come in, you have to promise me you won't tell her who you are...  _Please._ "

            Heero waited with bated breath as Trowa looked between his distraught brother and the door for a moment before he nodded.

            Morgan nodded, turning to look at the other's in apprehension before he took a deep breath and opened the door. When they entered, a woman on the bed in the far side of the room looked up from a crochet hook and yarn, before asking:

            “Who are you?”


	13. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a nice chapter. Lots of depressing stuff. You still love me

            Duo seemed to freeze to the spot when he saw the woman sitting in a reclined position in her hospital bed. Her wild curls were grey and frizzy, held back by a bright pink scrunchy. Her face was lined with what he found himself hoping were laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. The clothing she wore looked like scrubs, and there was nothing personal on her side of the room except what looked like a photo frame face-down on the bedside table.

            He was a little startled by just how much she resembled Tro-bear and the kid.

            When Morgan approached, he did so slowly. His voice was warm with a little bit of a tremble, but it didn’t hold familiarity. “Hello Ms. Sinclair. My name is Morgan-”

            He had turned to introduce them, when Katrina interrupted, “Morgan? That’s such a lovely name. I have a little boy named Morgan. He’s only five.”

            Morgan winced, his jaw clenching, Duo wanted to give the kid a hug before a blank sort of expression covered his face. It was becoming obvious that he had plenty of practice with his mothers illness. He turned back with a fake smile, “That’s lovely to here Ms. Sinclair. My friends and I were wondering if it would be alright if we visited with you for a bit.”

            The woman’s eyes seemed to dim for a moment before she nodded inanely, a vacant smile on her face.

            They all found somewhere to sit after they were introduced to Trowa’s mom. Morgan taking the chair next to the bed nearest the window, with Trowa sitting on the opposite side. Duo found himself wanting to hug both of them, wondering how the hell they were handling this. Chatting for a while, he found that the woman was fixated on her children, whom she believed were all alive and healthy, and, well, children. When she picked up the photo, handing it to Trowa, he was immediately on alert. He looked like he had gotten a punch to the gut.

            Passing the photo around, Duo understood why, the picture was obviously from before his friend had been kidnapped. The woman was so young that he almost didn’t recognize her. Light green eyes almost the exact shade as his friends, curly brown hair, and a radiant smile. There was no father that he could see, but there was a four-year-old Trowa, his eyes sparkling with happiness. A small two-year-old girl huddled up next to him in a pink polka-dot swimsuit. And in the arms of Katrina, a small baby, his eyes greyer than they were now.

            When conversation resumed, Duo pondered why he had assumed that this woman wasn’t Trowa’s mom. He had automatically thought that it would be a sister or an older relative. Then he realized that it was because of the way Morgan had been acting. His mind had jumped to a sibling he had a fallout with, or maybe a relative he didn’t know well. For some reason, a mother had never entered his mind as a possibility.

            Morgan stood when it was becoming obvious that Katrina was becoming tired. She looked a little glum at the prospect of being left alone, but brightened when Morgan promised to come again.

            Instead of heading back out of the hospital after they got out of the psych ward, Trowa lead everyone to a sort of garden courtyard on the first floor. Reaching an isolated bench, he sat down with a sigh and buried his face into his hands.

            Duo watched as Quatre walked away from Wufei and sat down next to Trowa and put a hand on his shoulder. Looking back up, he saw Morgan standing a little way away, staring at a Hydrangea bush.

            Casually, Duo wandered over to the kid, wondering what on earth he could say after that scene in the hospital room. Saying nothing for the moment, he stopped next to the still figure and looked at the sky.

            “Today was a good day.”

            The comment caught him by surprise, and he almost dreaded what a bad day would look like.

            “I wish he didn’t have to know what it feels like…”

            The softly whispered admission made Duo tense. He felt like he could at least partially understand Morgan’s reasoning, but he felt the need to say something.

            “He wasn’t happy, but it was his choice to make,” Duo said.

            Morgan let out a strangled sort of laugh, “Yeah, I know. I was thinking about it all the way here… but… not this time. I wanted to know how she was doing before I said anything…”

            There was a pause before he spoke again, “And now I have to tell him that even if he visits again, she won’t remember that he’s been there before.”

            Duo looked down sharply, and he felt a pang in his chest at the expression on the kids face. The physical pain he had expressed before was nothing to the pain he saw now. Tears were dripping down his face that he was obviously trying to suppress. Then it hit him, the reason he had been acting the way he had when visiting his own mother. She never remembered him, so he couldn't even build a relationship with her as a stranger. Without thinking, he put an arm around painfully thin shoulders.

            Ignoring the tenseness in Morgan's frame at the contact, he turned them both around and said, “You have family, you know. They’re sitting right over there, and standing right next to you.”

            His words had the desired effect. Morgan’s face shot up, the tears stopped, and he looked stunned. “What… I don’t...”

            Rolling his eyes Duo explained, “Sorry to break it to you, but Tro-bear’s a package deal-” he held a snicker in when the kid’s eyes widened at the knick-name “-and we’re that package. You might as well get used to it now, ‘cause one of those things Tro needs to discuss is that we all live together.”

            He did chuckle when the only response he got was some blinking and silence as he was stared at. Leading Morgan over to an adjacent bench, he sat down and looked at Trowa again.

            His friend looked up and jumped to his feet when he saw Morgan’s tear-stained face. Without saying a word, he enveloped his new brother in a hug. In spite of the flinch at the contact, Morgan put his own arms around him and kept repeating ‘I’m sorry’.

            “This isn’t your fault, I wanted to meet her,” Trowa told him softly, his arms tightening ever so slightly on the trembling frame.

            Pushing him away, Morgan looked devastated, “You don’t understand. Her head injury didn’t just wipe her memory of her life after I turned five. She won’t remember you. Every time I see her, she has no idea who I am. Not the name I give her or what I look like. She won’t know that I used to take care of her. She won’t know that any of you came today.”

            His right hand started to move in the nervous gesture from before and he began to pace, his eyes darting around like he was looking for a way to get his words out. No one  spoke as they watched his agitated movements. “Then, there are the bad days. Those are the days when she remembers the war, that her daughter died in front of her, that her son is missing, but she can’t remember me. Those days she’s violent. She sees the world around her, but its twisted into a nightmare. Even before I came here I knew that I couldn’t do it alone anymore. Not after-”

            Abruptly he stopped. Not just speaking but moving as well. For a minute, he looked like a statue, unnaturally still. Then he turned and looked Trowa in the eye. The look on his face spoke volumes about what might have occurred on a 'bad day', then he spoke again, “Thank you for bringing me here. I’m sorry I tried to keep this from you. I promise that I would’ve told you eventually. After all, you deserve to know the truth.” Duo noticed a bitter twist to his voice when he said that last part. Then he did one of his whiplash inducing mood changes and started to walk towards the exit.


	14. The Talk

The walk back to the vehicle was dead silent, and Trowa found himself relieved for the opportunity to think for a moment. His mind was buzzing with all of the information that had been heaped onto him today: He had a little brother who had fought his way out of Hell, he had a mother whose mental state wouldn't allow her to remember him, and he was now the legal guardian of said brother. Glancing over to his left, he studied Morgan. His hair looked ruffled, and the bruising under his eyes stood in stark contrast to his pale skin, it appeared that he was used to injury as he was holding himself quite naturally even with the cast. A dark sort of fury began to rise in his chest at the thought of what his brother had obviously been through. There were a million questions that he wanted to ask, but at the same time he wanted to lock himself into his room so that he could sort through everything. 

Shaking his head a little, he decided that for now he needed to get a few things about the very new arrangements he and his brother were facing out of the way. 

Looking at Heero, he asked, "Where should we go for this?"

His friend cocked his head to the left, glancing at the newest addition to their little family, whom had started slightly at the sound of Trowa's voice, "I think the tea room would be best. We can get a private room that way."

Trowa nodded at Heero in acknowledgement as they climbed into the vehicles. Turning to look at his brother, he was slightly startled to realize that Morgan was studying him with a pensive expression on his face. 

"Is everything alright?" Trowa's voice came out weaker than he had intended. 

Morgan blinked a few times, like he wasn't expecting Trowa to acknowledge him at all, he felt another twinge of anger. "Well, I was just wondering..."

He looked down at his lap, fidgeting with a small piece of string that had come from who knows where. "It's OK to ask questions, Morgan."

Morgan's head suddenly lifted and he was glaring at Trowa, "I know that!" he snapped, before turning red and looking away, ashamed at his outburst. There was absolute silence in the vehicle before Morgan's voice, sounding very small, broke it, "Sorry about that... I... uh... I was just wondering if maybe you..."

The look that had taken over Morgan's face was one of frustration and pain. Trowa let out a quiet breath and said, "Maybe you should wait until we get something to eat. I know that I'm still reeling from everything."

His little brother looked at him sharply, and seeing the sincerity on his face, relaxed and nodded, "Um, OK. And, I really am sorry, you know, for snapping..."

Trowa found a small smile twitching the end's of his mouth upwards. "Don't worry about it."

The rest of the ride was silent, and Trowa found himself a little grateful that Duo wasn't in the vehicle with them. When they reached their destination, Trowa led a very unfocused Morgan to their usual room in the Tea Room. This was one of their favorite places in the area, and the people here knew them well enough not to bother seating their little group unless a private room was available. The place sounded expensive, but it was actually rather reasonable, something that everyone other than Quatre appreciated. 

Once everyone was seated, they ordered something, though it had taken some convincing for Morgan to get something that actually cost money. They were going to have to work on that, Trowa thought with a wince. 

Coughing to clear his throat, Trowa got everyone's attention and spoke, "Well, the main reason we came here first rather than our place is that there are a few things we should discuss. And now we can get a little more comfortable with each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, but I wanted to hurry back to Morgan's POV. We need to know how he's taking all of this ;)


	15. Chapter 15

            Morgan found himself listening with rapt attention as Trowa told him about the life he was unexpectedly entering. Trowa lived with all of the other pilots, and it seemed that one of the main reasons for this was because they had fought together during a war that he had never heard of. When he mentioned that, there was a very uncomfortable silence before Trowa told him that they could arrange some of the lessons that Winner had asked him about before Evan and Gadd had been arrested. Their drinks and food were delivered as his brother was attempting to explain the living arrangements, but he insisted that Morgan eat before they continue.

            Morgan hated eating with strangers, even though technically Trowa was his brother. He always felt awkward and uncomfortable. The fact that he knew his stomach couldn’t handle anything other than soup at the moment didn’t help at all. As much as he hated to admit it, he was really bad at eating soup… he tended to spill a lot and liquid always ended up dribbling down his chin. Being super careful with the spoon, he painstakingly ate his soup and tried to ignore the pain in his hand, ankle, ribs, and head, as well as the other people in the room.

            When the soup was finally gone, Morgan felt a strange elation. He had been allowed to take as much time as he needed to eat. He hadn’t been heckled, insulted, or thrown out of the room. Even so, there was an underlying tension that came from the information his older brother wanted. Would everything change after he explained what he knew to Trowa?

            Swallowing and glancing up at the people chatting inanely around him, Morgan decided that he needed to get this out of the way so that he could escape if he needed to. This was a public place, and he had already catalogued the exits and the roads they had taken to get here. There was no doubt in his mind that these people were trained, especially if they had survived a war, but he had a slight advantage. He would prefer not to have to attempt to utilize the small amount of ambient magic he was able to pull at around the bindings on his core, but if necessary he would.

            Clearing his throat to catch everyone’s attention, he looked at Trowa with a purposefully expectant look on his face. His brother tilted his head to the left as he looked back, and Morgan got a sinking feeling that Trowa understood more about what he was planning than he was comfortable with. Pushing the feeling back, he waited for his brother to continue.

            “Well, I believe that the best person to explain our living situation would be Quatre,” Trowa glanced at the small blonde and nodded for him to start.

            Quatre smiled and started to speak, Morgan found himself stunned at the sincerity in his expression, “Well, after the war, I took over the running of my father’s company. We were all rather hesitant to live alone and thought that it would be nice to live with people who understood what each other had gone through… to a certain extent at least. I have a house on the outskirts of the city, each person has their own personal room, and everything else other than my office is a communal space. I would of course ask you to respect everyone’s privacy, but other than that you are free to go wherever you wish. However, there are a few things about our residence that I should fill you in on.”

            He paused for a moment to consider his next words and Morgan couldn’t help but think that this living arrangement was strange, but also rather nice.

            “I have people whom work for me, they have sworn to protect me, but they are not servants,” the stern tone of voice caught Morgan’s attention as Quatre explained the relationship he held with the Maganacs. Apparently, a few of them had decided to stay on with him after they had fought together and dedicated themselves to his service. Morgan was a little stunned at this, but felt a sense of respect for someone who was willing to do something like that.

            Quatre caught the look and decided that he didn’t need to say anything more about it. He explained various roles and chores which everyone contributed to around the house and that everyone was mostly responsible for their own tidiness, especially in the common areas.

            After that, there was a moment of silence before Trowa asked, “Do you have any questions?”

            Morgan looked at him and then at the glass of water in front of him, processing all of the information and trying to put his thoughts together. After a minute or two, he looked at Trowa and asked, “What exactly are your expectations other than this agreement you have with everyone else?”

            Trowa cocked his head to the side again and seemed to think for a moment, really considering his question, which was nice. “Well, I would like to arrange lessons for you until I think you have enough information” -that seemed reasonable enough, Morgan nodded- “and I would also like to take you in for regular medical checkups.”

            Morgan blinked for a moment, trying to process what he said. Feeling his eyes narrow, Morgan rapidly sorted through his thoughts and reasoned with himself – it wasn’t possible for Trowa to know about the experimentation as there was no existing documentation, there was likely no one else alive to really have informed the government about the Canadian labs as the doctor was wanted on different charges. Deciding that he would wait and see for now, he nodded, but didn’t relax.

            Shifting uncomfortably and feeling the eyes of the others on him, he focused on the table as he asked, “What about money?”

            There was a longer pause this time and Morgan looked up to see his brother had a slightly shocked and confused expression on his face. Coughing a little, Morgan felt his face heat up in embarrassment at his reaction and was about to try and distract him when Trowa explained in a very matter-of-fact tone, “I’m your guardian, I’ll be taking care of your needs myself.”

            Head snapping up at that, Morgan did a very convincing impression of a fish for a moment before he said, “But- but you agreed that you viewed me as an adult- what – you.”

            Laughter caught his attention and he found Maxwell was trying to contain his chuckles, “Tro-bear, I think you broke your brother.”

            Heat rushed to Morgan’s face more intensely than before when Chang suddenly spoke, “Maxwell, try to contain your idiocy for a moment, would you.”

            The irritation on the other’s face was evident as he stared at the still laughing Maxwell. Morgan then bore witness to bickering that seemed almost practiced as the two traded insults. He found that it felt rather comforting and a twinge in his chest had him looking away. Whilst the others were distracted with trying to get both men to stop arguing, Trowa looked into Morgan’s eyes and said, “I know that you could take care of yourself, but it would mean a lot to me if you allowed me to take care of you. It won’t be for long, but I would like it if you allowed it until at least you have all of the tools you need to start up your life again.”

            Once again, the words and sincerity hit home, and Morgan found himself stunned. His eyes stung a little and he wished with an intensity that scared him slightly that this wasn’t a dream.

            Nodding so that he wouldn’t have to attempt to speak again, Morgan just stared at the table and played with a small piece of paper he ripped off of his napkin.

            The argument finally ended and everyone settled down again when Trowa spoke up again, “I think we should go home now.”

            Another shock went through Morgan. Why on earth wasn’t he asking about his disappearance? Why wasn’t he being interrogated for information?

            As everyone made their way back to the vehicles, Morgan found himself not really caring about much of anything at the moment, his body was aching and he was exhausted beyond comprehension. The thoughts running through his head were paranoid, hopeful, and anxious, but there was one thought that kept coming back: this day was one of the weirdest he had ever lived through.


	16. Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa tries to comprehend his brother

Once they had introduced Morgan to the Maganacs and gotten him settled in his room, Morgan had told Trowa that he would like to sleep. Trowa had also found the day rather trying and he was, well, furious that his little brother was so on guard - that he was obviously exhausted and in pain. Morgan's hesitance and wariness wasn't exactly confusing, and it seemed that he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. As Trowa made his way back down the light green hallway towards the stairs, he had to keep reminding himself that it would be a bad idea to ask his brother too many questions right now. The fact that he kept watching Trowa meant that he was expecting something, and that it wasn't hugs and kisses. The former heavy arms pilot was rather worried that asking about his own childhood would be pushing too far, too soon. It was quite clear that Morgan would be uncomfortable talking about the past, after what had happened at the hospital. 

Sighing in frustration at his own confusion, he made his way to the living room only to find that it was filled with his fellow pilots waiting for him, seemingly relaxed: Quatre was in Wufei's lap, and Duo had his head in Heero's lap in the love seat across from the big fireplace. 

Puffing out a breath, he collapsed in one of the other armchairs and buried his face in his hands, trying to will the swirling thoughts zipping through his head away. 

"You alright, Tro?" Duo was the first to break the silence that had fallen the moment Trowa entered the room.

He felt his lips twitch at the question, but before he could reply, Wufei broke in, "Of course he isn't alright, you idiot."

Trowa couldn't help the bubble of slightly-hysterical laughter that came out of his mouth. He looked over to one of the windows in the wall adjacent to the fireplace, and responded, "It's been a long time since I've wanted to hurt someone this badly."

Quatre spoke again after a moment of silence, "Well, you certainly aren't alone in that aspect." Trowa couldn't help the small shiver that went down his spine at the icy words, he was once again glad that the little blonde was his friend and not his enemy.

Sighing, Trowa spoke again, "I'm not sure how to approach him... he seems so strong one moment and then the next I feel like a look could shatter him."

"Just take it one day at a time," Heero's voice seemed like a calming breeze through the tense room. "Nothing is going to change immediately. We just make sure he understands that he is welcome, and allow things to progress as they will."

Trowa felt his lips twitch a bit - leave it to the perfect soldier to make such a complicated thing so simple. He looked out the window and saw that the sun was already starting to set. The hours since he had met his brother seemed to blur into an unrecognizable mass of thoughts and feelings. Rubbing his tired eyes, he sighed out, "I'm going to bed. Night, everyone."

He heard the soft replies and assumed that everyone was going to stay up a little longer. Even as he climbed the stairs, he knew that he should probably leave everything as it was for now, but he wanted to check on some of his only remaining family. Knocking lightly on the bedroom door, he waited a few moments and wondered if perhaps Morgan had already fallen asleep, he hadn't been downstairs that long. 

The door opened a crack and he saw a pale purple eye studying from the small gap. Swinging open a little wider, he could see more of Morgan's face, and he truly did look fragile in that moment.

"I wanted to say good night. I'm going to bed," Trowa stated, somewhat lamely.

To his surprise, Morgan looked slightly shocked, and then it almost seemed as though warmth entered his eyes, even as his expression remained completely blank. "Good night, Trowa," Morgan's soft voice responded before he close the door.

Walking to his room in a bit of a daze, Trowa decided that he would say good night every single night. Just because.


	17. Breakfast

The next morning didn’t exactly bring with it the clarity Morgan was hoping for, but his head was no longer spinning with all of the feelings and questions he had yesterday. He sat on the end of his bed, dressed in the same clothing he had worn yesterday. There had been so many revelations and drastic changes that it hadn’t even registered that he had no other clothing.   
There was a debate that he needed to conclude before he saw Trowa again. What to tell him?  
There was no longer any doubt in his mind. Morgan would be telling Trowa something. He didn’t necessarily trust his long-lost brother and friends, but he did not believe them to be bad people. The obviousness of the power of the organization that he had visited was slightly intimidating, but it was also clear that for the most part, they were bound by laws. There was also the telling factor of their collective and individual behavior towards him that made him think that certain stories should be told. He wouldn’t get ahead of himself and spill his collective beans, but he would give a little.   
The main problem: Magic. How in the name of the Mother was he supposed to know if they were aware of magic? The civil war in Canada had encompassed both the magical, and the non-magical, he didn’t even know that there had been war outside of the country, encompassing the entire planet, apparently. Unfortunately, Morgan had been caught in both of the Civil wars, and the result had been being used as a scape-goat and having his magic mostly sealed. These people didn’t exactly appear to use magic. According to magical history, the magi and non-magi spheres didn’t interact much except to avoid detection. From what he had observed thus far, his brother, along with his chosen family, were firmly rooted in the non-magi sphere. This presented a problem. Before she had lost her grip on reality, his mother had informed him that his brother had shown signs of accidental magic. However, Trowa hadn’t made a single reference, subtle or obscure, to magic.  
Morgan supposed it was decided, then. The only information up for grabs was the little he knew about Trowa’s disappearance that didn’t include magic…  
That was almost nothing.  
Sighing in frustration, Morgan put his head in his good hand and tried to rationalize telling this person he didn’t know about wand-waving, broom-riding, potion-swilling wizards, and came up empty. He could only barely use magic, it was an empty threat for intimidation and nothing else, the best he could pull was a weak warming charm. In other words, if he had to convince them, there was nothing to convince them with.  
Getting up, he looked at the clock and saw that it had finally reached seven a.m. Hoping that this wasn’t still too early – he had been up since four – he opened the door and slipped into the hall, making his way down to where he vaguely remembered the kitchen was supposed to be.  
Apparently, it wasn’t too early, as the sound of voices and the clinking of dishes reached his ears. Peering around the door jamb, he could see all five of the pilots standing or sitting around the kitchen, discussing inane topics like work or the weather. Trowa and Quatre were standing in front of the stove, cooking. Duo was in a chair near the windows leaning his chair back on two legs. Wufei was sipping coffee across from Duo and Heero appeared to be leaning against the window ledge observing everyone. Consequently, he was the first one to notice Morgan lurking in the doorway.   
“Morning,” was his short greeting.   
Now that Morgan had all the attention on him, he decided that it would be a good time to actually go into the kitchen. As he took a step in, then stopped, suddenly nervous and a little scared. What if I’m not welcome in the kitchen while everyone is here? His obvious pause and uncertain expression, unbeknownst to Morgan, had Trowa ready to track down that worm Thorkul and find out what exactly he had done to his little brother.  
Morgan shook himself, if he really wanted to know whether or not he was welcome, he should just sit down. Cursing his own timidity, he slowly made his way over to the table as everyone else greeted him.   
Sitting at the table, he tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible while the food was set in the center. He was trying not to look so unsure of himself, but he automatically cringed at the thought of being thrown out of the room for his audacity.  
“How did you sleep?” Came the familiar voice of Trowa from his left. Duo was sitting to his right.  
The question had him nearly jumping out of his skin, but Morgan just barely managed to make it look like a mild flinch. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Alright, thanks for asking,” then, looking at Qautre, he commented, “it is a very nice room Mr. Winner, thank you for your hospitality.”  
There was an awkward pause as everyone observed how stiff Morgan was, then Quatre responded, “That’s very nice of you to say, Morgan, but I think given the fact that we are all going to live together first names would be nice, wouldn’t they?” He smiled encouragingly, and everyone was relieved when Morgan relaxed marginally and nodded.  
Trowa filled his plate with food and said, “If you’re hungry you should eat something, Morgan.”  
Again, Morgan felt slightly startled, but hesitantly began to fill his plate as everyone began to eat. He knew that he couldn’t eat much, but at the same time, he didn’t want to disappoint his brother. There was a bit of a warm feeling in his chest at the thought of Trowa feeling concern for his well-being.   
He didn’t think he would feel comfortable here for a while, but the people were starting to feel a little less threatening. There was an odd moment after that. He had just finished eating and been repeatedly told that it wasn’t his turn to clean up, when he realised that he was already thinking in terms of living here in the long term. That made him even more uncomfortable, so instead of awkwardly hovering in a corner of the kitchen, Morgan went to sit down on a padded chair he found in the living room.  
Morgan had no idea what to do now. He was used to being ordered around like a house elf (a badly treated one at that) and constantly having a chore to do. His world was tilted at a strange angle and it was making him antsy.


	18. A Little Wufei

Wufei found himself watching Trowa with a hawk-like intensity as they had all eaten breakfast. His fellow pilot seemed to be holding himself back from mothering Sinclair, whom appeared to be rather unsure of himself. Their interactions the other day and this morning indicated that he wasn’t used to being treated like a human being, let alone an adult. He saw flashes of the rage that had made him such a formidable pilot during the war whenever his younger brother flinched or hesitated.   
However, what was really catching his attention was the way Trowa looked at his brother with longing. He could imagine how hard it was to have so many questions unanswered when the source of information was sitting right in front of him. After Sinclair had hovered for a moment, looking lost when he was gently but firmly told that clean-up was not his responsibility, he left the room. Trowa had started to leave, when Wufei asked the question that had been hanging in the air from the moment they had discovered this new familial connection: “How are you?”  
Trowa looked at him, sighed, and seemed to deflate back into his previous seat. “Relieved, scared, frustrated, excited, nervous… and about a million other things.”  
Nodding in acceptance of the answer, Wufei decided to take matters into his own hands and find out where Sinclair had gone. As it turned out, he didn’t have to go far. Considering how lost and unfocused the man looked, Wufei decided to just sit down and wait. Pushing anything at this point in time seemed like a bad idea.  
When the other inhabitants began to filter into the living room, Trowa’s brother finally pulled out of himself and stared at the ground.  
Trowa coughed, causing Sinclair to snap his head up and stare at his brother. “I suppose we have a few things to discuss if you're up for it.”  
The young man in question seemed to be staring a hole through his brother before he suddenly asked, “Why haven’t you asked me anything yet?” Given the wince that followed, it would seem that Sinclair hadn’t meant to ask that.  
Wufei noticed Trow’s lip twitch in slight amusement at the blurted question but answered, “I’ve been waiting most of my life for answers about my past Morgan,” Sinclair flinched slightly at that, but remained silent. “However, I would rather you feel comfortable first before I ask. I don’t want to demand anything from you.”  
Sinclair looked long and hard at Trowa, then seemed to scan the other current occupants of the room. He opened his mouth and said, “Then I believe I will tell you what I learned about your disappearance.”  
The shock on Trowa’s face wasn’t surprising, but Wufei had to admit he hadn’t anticipated the answers coming out so soon.


	19. Some Information

Duo was watching all of this unfolding with both anxiety and excitement. He was happy for his friend, after all, Trowa had confided in him once that not knowing about his family had always bothered him. However, the way that Trowa’s kid brother was going about all of this gave him the feeling that he was testing all of them. Instead of saying anything for once, Duo decided that his new defacto brother was not going to be disappointed.

            Morgan began to speak, his voice sounding like he was choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t know you existed until I was eleven years old,” he paused when he noticed Trowa’s slight movement at that particular piece of information. “The main reason was because my sister mentioned our brother one day. When I asked my… our, mother, she explained that when I was just a baby, my sister Alana ran a high fever. She didn’t want my brother, you, to catch the fever. I had already started to show some symptoms of being infected, so she called a friend over to watch you while she took Alana and I to the hospital.”

            Morgan trailed off and seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment. Looking over at Trowa again, he noticed that he seemed to be both apprehensive and eager, whilst he watched his sibling like a hawk. Duo couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed the way Morgan was being reserved in some specifics whilst more giving in others.

            Coughing into his hand, Morgan seemed to come back again and continued, “She was gone for three hours. She didn’t have a cell phone, and by the time she got back to the house, it was past midnight. Mom told me that when she pulled into the driveway, the door was open, she ran into the house juggling Alana and I. When she got inside, it looked like a war zone. Furniture knocked over, burn marks on the walls, broken pictures on the floor… and no one in the house.” Morgan swallowed for a moment, seeming hesitant to continue, like he was debating something. “Mom had difficulty continuing the explanation after that, she was getting upset and I felt like I had caused it. She kept going though, she said that she had searched everywhere in the house, but no one was there. You, her friend, and anyone who had come in was gone. She called the… authorities, but they found nothing. A month later her friend finally called.”

            A sharp inhale of breath distracted everyone and they noticed that Trowa was gripping the arms of his chair rather tightly. Morgan continued, but now he looked a little wary of his brother’s tension, like he was anticipating a very bad reaction.

            “Mom’s friend, Hermione, told her that some people that had been part of a terrorist group in England had tracked down our family and planned to… to kill us in some act of revenge. Apparently, our mom had been a part of some sort of group determined to bring down the terrorists when they were at their worst. She had fled the country with you and her boyfriend when she wasn’t even yet aware that she was pregnant with her second child. Alana and I had a different dad from you,” Morgan seemed to tack that part on as more of an afterthought than anything else. Coughing again, looking more uncomfortable now, he said, “Her friend knew that we were safe at the hospital, so she grabbed you and ran, taking the attackers with her. She had been running for the past two weeks when they had a sort of showdown. She had managed to take out most of them, but she was injured and had to flee again. As a sort of Hail Mary move, she boarded a shuttle out into space. It was a good thing too, because she ended up passing out moments after. The last of the men who attacked us were captured, but Hermione was out for another two weeks, leaving you in custody of the local authorities on L2 while no one had any idea who you were.” Morgan took a deep breath before he continued. “Mom was going to take the next shuttle out to go get you when… when the war started. All access to transportation outside or inside the country was shut down and we were put under Marshall Law. We never heard from Hermione again.”

            The silence was deafening after Morgan finished. Trowa stood suddenly, startling Morgan so badly that he literally leapt out of his chair and watched his brother with his full attention, and it was obvious that there was more than a little fear backing that up. Walking forward slowly, with a look of anguish on his face, Trowa encircled his arms around Morgan. Morgan was stiff as a board with a look of confusion on his face. When Trowa whispered, “Thank you,” he relaxed slightly and tentatively put his hands on his big brothers back.

The hug was awkward, like Morgan had forgotten how to hug and accept gentle touches, his face showing some panic and it was obvious that he wanted to comfort his brother but didn't seem to know how. With that, every single pilot in the room decided that they would make sure Morgan understood that no one would hurt him again without having the full force of the Gundam pilots falling on their heads.


End file.
